


Out

by moth2fic



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Rome
Genre: M/M, Outing, RPF, characters and relationships hidden because of spoilers, long term closet relationship, scroll slowly, try to guess (not hard but fun)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ghost tells us what really happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/gifts).



> Written as a writing exercise at Broadstairs Bacchanalia (a mini-con). My prompts were - 'historical RPF' and 'coming out'. Work is a gift for MistressKat who was at least partly responsible for the prompts and then persuaded me to post the result.

A ghost talking? I can see your disbelief. But we're all ghosts now, those of us who were here two millennia before you. Yet to me it is yesterday and I need to tell someone about it. You'll do.

The word in the forum was rumour built upon rumour until even the youngsters were scrawling their ideas on the walls; black, white and ochre graffiti. 'Who the woman in the relationship?' they scribbled. 'Who the one shamed?' Drawings asked questions as rudely as words; laughter came alike from merchant, soldier and slave. But no-one really knew the truth of it; it was all suspicion and turmoil, envy of those in high position, belief that leaders might or even should have feet of clay. 

I could have told them. Throughout the campaigns, military and political, I remained silent and so did he. We never spoke of what we shared, even to each other, of the hot sweaty grappling that ended in heaven-sent release. The army was, in any case, a forgiving environment where what men did in tent or camp stayed there and did not follow them back to Rome. And yet it hurt, somehow, to pretend we were no more than friends or colleagues, hurt not to acknowledge the real, closer relationship. 

We all knew events were spiralling out of control. We all knew secrecy could breed sourness on every side and that every public mask could hide a growing private bitterness. I knew in my heart that jealousy and a fear of power would eventually rot and spoil what we had together. But I had never thought that love could turn around as if from north to south, into hate.

I never intended to out myself or my lover. Then as I felt my life seeping away, the dagger thrusts hurting my heart more than my body, I could not help but say, with what I knew was a tone of injury beyond mere death, "Et tu, Brute?"


End file.
